


to be as happy as I can be on earth

by janie_tangerine



Category: Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Married Sex, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Wedding Night, Woman on Top, in which i tried to do an experiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “Jane,” he called me, sighing, almost as if he could not quite believe I was in fact there, still, regardless of all the proof to the contrary he had had until this point.“Edward,” I replied, tasting the sound of his given name on my tongue, marveling for a moment at the realization that it was mine to call him with from then until the end of our days, no more sirs or Mr. Rochester for us, not behind our own chambers’s doors. I raised my left hand to the side of his face, and he sighed again as my palm met his skin, turning his head around to kiss it, and I felt that warmth spread inside me again, slow but quite steady nonetheless. I reached down with my other hand, undoing the laces on his shirt, letting my fingers slowly brush against his throat, feather-like, but he sighed again as I did so.





	to be as happy as I can be on earth

**Author's Note:**

> HEEEY GUYS SO, there's a 19th century literature kinkmeme going around at [corsetsandlemons](https://corsetsandlemons.dreamwidth.org/2535.html) until the 23rd of June and I'm participating currently, sooo... for something you probably did not expect, I'll dump here a couple of fills for now, the first of which is this one that was written for a prompt asking for _Their first wedding night together with some soft dirty talk and praise kink!!_ , and who was I to refuse.
> 
> So: have my attempt at actually trying the original style. Idk if I failed or not but it was fun. X°D the title is from the book itself, I own nothing, I was really glad to write a thing for one of my historical otps and that's it /o\ I'll saunter vaguely downwards to post fill #2. XD

Our wedding, reader, was indeed quiet, and I would sooner have preferred that over a richer ceremony; I wanted none of that, and neither did Edward. However, that was not to be said of our wedding night.

Truth to be told, while I certainly did _not_ ignore what to expect, the circumstances were not such as I had imagined when I had agreed to wed him the first time. However, the circumstances were surely changed for him, as well, and what if my hands might have shook a bit as I locked the door to his — our — room? He could not see it, at least.

As I did so, he had made his way to the bed, sitting upon the mattress but otherwise not quite moving, and as I turned to him, as I cast my eyes upon the reddish hues the flames in the fireplace cast upon his raven hair, I felt a certain warmth spread through my midriff, a warmth I had only ever felt before when looking into his eyes or wishing I could kiss his mouth when I thought I could not have it.

Now, however, not only I _could_ , I reflected as I made my way to the bed after taking off my shoes, watching him reach down and undo the laces of his own with his right hand; I _would_ have it, for we were wed properly and he was mine as I was his, and no other thought I had entertained on that day felt quite as sweet. I waited until he was finished with unlacing his boots before coming nearer, until he could feel my presence in front of him.

“Jane,” he called me, sighing, almost as if he could not quite believe I was in fact there, still, regardless of all the proof to the contrary he had had until this point.

“Edward,” I replied, tasting the sound of his given name on my tongue, marveling for a moment at the realization that it was mine to call him with from then until the end of our days, no more _sir_ s or _Mr. Rochester_ for us, not behind our own chambers’s doors. I raised my left hand to the side of his face, and he sighed again as my palm met his skin, turning his head around to kiss it, and I felt that warmth spread inside me again, slow but quite steady nonetheless. I reached down with my other hand, undoing the laces on his shirt, letting my fingers slowly brush against his throat, feather-like, but he sighed again as I did so.

“Jane,” he repeated, looking up at me with unseeing eyes that still somehow conveyed that he felt as lightheaded as I, “I want you to know that wish I could be better to you, that…”

I shook my head. “Do not speak of yourself like this,” I interrupted him, shaking my head. “I am quite sure that you will be as good to me as you would have been if it were a year ago.”

His shoulder hunched downwards as he lowered his eyes downwards.

“But like this,” he protested, “I do not think I could perform my duties to you as I would have a year ago.”

I reached down, holding his right hand, bringing it upwards so his fingers would touch the curve of my lips and he could feel that I was smiling and that our current circumstances were not disappointing me at all. “I reckon,” I told him, “that then it means _I_ shall perform my duties to you instead.” I felt blood rush to his skin as I spoke, similarly as it had rushed to mine when I had considered such an occurrence in the privacy of my own chamber the previous nights.

“And how,” he asked, “my dearest Jane, would you proceed to do such a thing?”

I smiled once again.

“To start with,” I said, “I think you should best lie down.”

He nodded, moving back on the soft mattress of his bed that was now to be ours, leaning against the wall, his face turning pained as he tried to find a good position for his maimed left arm. I took a deep breath and moved on so my knees would be around his thighs, then reached for his right hand and brought it to the strings tying the white lace of my dress in the front.

His lips parted as he nodded in understanding and he slowly pulled on it with shaking fingertips. I let it fall from my shoulders, and then I brought his hand to my collarbone, letting him feel my skin.

“May I…?” He asked, breath catching in his throat, his hand stopping just above my breast.

“Of course, my dear,” I told him, wondering if it would feel as wondrous as I had sometimes pictured such a thing to feel long before I thought I could ever have him, and reader, it did: as much as I had been told since I could remember that silence was the proper answer in such occasions, I forgot in that moment, because his touch felt exactly as wondrous as I had pictured it to be, and as his fingers kneaded my flesh I felt warmth pooling in between my legs, but by then it would have been wrong to call it _warmth_ , as it was turning into a burning fire slowly and steadily.

“Yes,” I told him breathlessly, “yes, darling, _yes_.” His touch became bolder as he moved his hand down to my hip, pushing the dress downwards further, and he let out a very ungentlemanly moan as he held it. That was not what I wanted, though, or at least not the whole of it. “But now,” I said, “I think I should like to see you, as well.”

He held his breath, not protesting as I divested him of his shirt, helping him out of it. His chest was as strong and lithe as always, although it presented a few burn scars that would not have been there, a year before. Nonetheless, he was as impressive as ever, and I told him as my hands went to his trousers and proceeded to divest him of them and of his undergarments. After doing so, I divested myself of my own dress and undergarments completely as well, and then moved myself back in place, with my knees around his thighs and my hands on his shoulders.

“Oh,” he said, his hand covering the small of my back, “I had given up any hope of ever touching you like this.”

“But you are,” I replied, “touching me. And I want you to keep on doing so, very much.”

Then I reached out for his left arm, that he was keeping to his side.

“Jane, you do not have to…” He initiated as I brought it to my side, placing the scarred stump of it against my hip.

“Edward,” I said, “I _want_ you to. I do want you, all of you, and as it is also mine own wedding night, I shall have it, if you would be so good.”

I could see his throat moving up and down as he nodded, his right hand moving tentatively below, in between my spread legs, where, reader, I had been ready for him for a long, long time. He gasped as his fingertips found wetness in between them, but how could they not have, when I had been aching for his touch for so long and when I finally knew I could have it, once and for all?

“Jane, my darling, is…” He started.

“Yes,” I told him without hesitation, and as his fingers slipped inside me tentatively at first but stronger and stronger with each passing moment, I saw no point in hiding how his touch made that heat inside me even more scalding, even more consuming.

Did I scream his name loud enough for others to hear, reader? I certainly might have, but that mattered none, not when I could see that he was happy as he heard me, and after all, if he could not see me, then how else could I be sure that he knew how wondrously he was making me feel?

His fingers slid inside me deeper, and deeper, curling just so that they would draw amazed sounds from my mouth over and over again, and I moved my hands to the sides of his face, leaning down to kiss him as he kept on pleasuring me.

“Yes,” I breathed against his lips, feeling his chest tremble as I caressed his face over and over, “yes, dear, _oh_ , go on. You feel so good,” I told him before kissing him on his mouth, taking the sounds leaving his lips for my own, swallowing them as he was swallowing mine and I clamped around his fingers, delighted as I noticed that he was holding me to himself with his maimed arm and that he was not thinking about that just in that moment.

He sighed once, twice, and kept on pleasuring me relentlessly until I could feel that smoldering heat burn me up from the inside just as I peaked around his hand, sighing into his mouth, my hands sliding across his neck and shoulders, drawing him closer to me, feeling how his heart was beating so, so fast against mine own chest. I had never imagined, not even once, that I would feel that heart of his beat thus instead of slow and steady, but perhaps it was not altogether such a bad thing, if the two of us felt the same.

“Edward,” I whispered as I came to myself, feeling lighter than usual, that heat having calmed down a bit but still simmering under my skin, not dying into embers yet, “that felt wondrous.”

“Did it?” He asked, sounding almost hopeful, his voice tinted with insecurity.

“I think you felt that, or have you not?” I asked as he let his wet fingers slip from inside me.

“I did,” he admitted, “but…”

“See,” I said, moving just slightly backwards and looking below his waist, where I had felt before that he was hard and ready and wanting, “you did perform your duties.” I breathed in, then let my hand touch him, feeling him arch under my fingers as soon as I did. “And now it is time for me to perform mine,” I finished, and how hard could it be when I could still feel heat and warmth inside me, when the insides of mine own thighs were wet and ready as I had been for him all this time?

“Jane, _please_ ,” he begged as I stroked him once, twice, and maybe I thought that I should have liked to hear him ask me for such a thing for a while longer, but it would not have felt proper to leave him wanting just then, and after all, was not this the first night of many we would share?

I was in no hurry, reader, and I was aware that we would have had time in the future for such things. I smiled, even if he could not see me, and moved so that I could slide down on him, and didn’t _that_ feel wondrous? No one in Lowood ever talked about sharing a bed with a man as something that would bring us any sort of pleasure, nor of being above the aforementioned man while consuming such an act, but as I welcomed him inside me I felt as if we were made to fit together. He was hard inside me, but it took no effort for him to slide inside my womb, the way in wet and slick, and as he did he was saying my name over and over, with a wonder to his voice that made my blood burn hotter once again.

“Edward,” I told him, leaning down, “Edward, you feel as you were made for me.” I kissed him before he could answer, my hands carding slowly through his hair, following my own instinct as I raised my hips just slightly and then lowered myself down on him again.

“Do I?” He whispered, his right hand moving up to feel my face. I kissed his palm as I nodded before moving strands of raven hair from his brow, and then I kissed his cheek and his forehead and his other cheek as I kept on sinking down on him.

“Oh, yes, dear,” I said. “I had dreams of having you,” I confessed against his skin, “but this is better than any of them.”

“Jane, darling, _Jane_ , do you not presume I have not dreamed of you all this time? Do you not presume I haven’t each single night since you left?” He was almost sobbing, and I could feel that he would not last much longer, but truth to be told, I knew I would not either. I let my tongue touch the scars on his face as I sank down on him again and again.

“Then,” I whispered, “let us not dream anymore and live, shall we? I need you,” I told him.

“Jane…”

“ _Edward_.” My voice trembled. I steadied it before speaking again. “Edward, _oh_ , my love, do not hold back.”

He said nothing, but I caught tears falling over his cheeks with my hands as he finally spilled inside me and I followed soon after, caught in that wave of scalding bliss that had touched me before but not so strongly, not so fully, and I held him to me as I let my legs clamp around his thighs, my fingers combing through the raven locks of his hair as my mouth found his. I kissed him, reader, and we did not stop until that scalding heat had turned into that comfortable, solid warmth, and not even after that, for that matter.

“Jane, darling,” he whispered against my lips after, when I still hadn’t moved at all, “that you never quite stopped being resourceful, have you not?”

“Of course not, my love,” I answered, feeling his heartbeat turn faster as I spoke. “And I think I should like to keep on being resourceful. It should not be too hard, when you are so good to me,” I said, turning to my right so I could raise his left wrist and kiss the maimed end of it.

His own voice trembled all over as he answered. “Then do you think you could show me some more of your… resourcefulness before the night is over?”

“I think,” I replied, smiling against his scarred skin, “that I would be delighted to, my love.”

The night, reader, did not end there, as you might have surmised for yourself. It was not quiet, nor were we so unsure after; but I do grant you, it was the happiest either of us could have wished for.

And the ones that came after, were all equally as happy, if not more.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to check the other fills (for now) or prompt something more, the post is open [here](https://corsetsandlemons.dreamwidth.org/2535.html)! feel free to take a look around ;)


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